


Not Your Type

by ingridmatthews



Category: Smallville
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-05
Updated: 2010-01-05
Packaged: 2017-10-05 20:42:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ingridmatthews/pseuds/ingridmatthews
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a green-eyed monster on the loose and Kryptonite has nothing to do with it, baby.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Your Type

One thing Clark realized as time went by was that Lex liked brunettes.

He liked them tall, with hair halfway down their back or, in Victoria's case, almost to their waist. Women who walked lightly on sky-high heels, swaying by his side like a graceful palm tree, sturdy and lithe. Lex's women were like his cars -- a perfectly natural accessory to his own indomitable charisma.

The latest example in this line of God's better creations was a slender willow named Felicia. Lex met her at some Metropolis function or another, bringing her back to Smallville without even an apologetic grin.

Clark often wondered what these upper class ladies and ambitious girls thought of their journey to the backwater lanes of Kansas. Did they smile and tell Lex how charming they thought it all was? Did they admire quilts at the fair as Lex talked business with Clark's father? Did they wallow in the country quaintness of it all while inside they seethed and plotted and swore that Lex Luthor was going to pay out his ass for bringing them to such a dump?

Clark had no idea. All he knew was that Felicia Robbins was just another in a long line of girls whose motives were less than noble, less than loving and more encouraging of Lex's shadier impulses.

Impulses Clark Kent spent too many days trying to gently coax Lex away from. It had been far too much work to have some ... some ... whatever, ruin all his efforts with a shake of her hair or wiggle of one perfectly manicured finger.

So he watched them. Carefully. And made his presence felt. Not in an obtrusive way, or so he thought. But he was always standing somewhere in the background, glancing at them with sidelong looks, making sure they understood Lex had someone watching his back.

And his front. And his sides and every space in-between.

Some of them didn't like it. Others, the dumber ones, didn't understand it.

But all of them saw it.

Even the latest one, Felicia. When Clark arrived one afternoon in Lex's den she immediately flounced off in a huff, not even sparing him a lukewarm "hello." She practically hissed as she passed him, her long brown hair flipping with every stomp.

Clark examined his nails as she stormed by, wrinkling his nose at the strong smell of her perfume. Lex's women had a strange taste for the heavy stuff. Yet another strike against them.

"Hey, Lex," he said cheerfully. Rooms devoid of Lex's girlfriends always made him cheerful. "What's up?"

"I think that's a question I should be asking you," Lex replied. "Did you and Felicia have a fight or something?"

"No." Clark did his best to look befuddled. "I don't think we've exchanged more than two words."

"And yet ... " Lex paused thoughtfully. "And yet there seems to be a definite tension every time both of you are in a room. At least from what I've seen."

"I dunno," Clark shrugged. "I guess she has some sort of problem with me. Which is fine. I really don't care either way."

Lex walked by his pool table, fingers running lightly along the felt. "So I'm taking it you don't like Felicia?"

Clark pondered. "It's not a question of like, really."

Lex aimed his cue. The pool balls scattered with a _crack._ "It's a question of what then?" he prompted, examining what was left on the table with a critical eye.

The words hung on Clark's lips, waiting to be sorted, lined up and used correctly. They immediately found themselves unceremoniously swallowed for something more diplomatic. "She doesn't seem like your type, that's all."

Lex straightened up slowly and leaned upon the pool cue with casual indifference. "Clark, I don't want you to take this the wrong way but what exactly do you think my 'type' is?"

Clark blinked. "Um ... well ... " He searched for the words, but remembering their previous rude dismissal the right ones maliciously abandoned him. "A ... nice girl. You should be with someone nice."

"And how do you know Felicia isn't nice?" Lex didn't sound annoyed or upset. He merely sounded ... curious.

"Oh, it's just a feeling I get," Clark stammered. "A gut sort of reaction."

"I see. Like with Victoria."

"Exactly!" Clark enthused. Whew. Saved. "That's the feeling I get."

"And with Margaret as well."

Now he was honestly befuddled. "Who's Margaret?"

"The girl who came with me to your house party?" Lex reminded him. "Remember? I had to listen to your tale of "The Bitch Who Clogged the Toilet that Got Me Grounded for a Month" for a few weeks after that."

Oh, that Margaret. "Well," said Clark defensively. "She should learn how to flush properly."

"And strangely, you had this same visceral reaction about Carrie. And Joan. And now Felicia," said Lex. "Honestly, Clark. I'm at a loss. Isn't there any girl you've seen me with who 'might' be my type?"

Clark stared at the expectant figure of his friend, propped elegantly against the cue, balancing himself with ease.

"If there is," Clark said slowly. "I haven't met them."

"Not even in theory? Not even a girl like, let's say, Lana?"

"No!" he yelled, then clapped a hand over his mouth, horrified. "Not ... Lana."

"Clark," Lex said quietly. "I don't mean Lana herself. You know I'd never do that to you. I was talking about a girl similar to the one you like so much. Would she be my type?"

It became very hard to swallow. To breathe. To do anything to let his heart beat past the constriction in his chest. "No ..." Choked, and God wasn't he an asshole. Lex was never going to speak to him after this, ever.

But he couldn't stop. The words were tumbling out now, gaining strength. "No, she wouldn't be. You need someone who's strong and who loves you for who you are. Who doesn't care about your money. Who loves your smile and hates when you're hurt or sad. Who would do anything for you."

"And just who might this heroic person be?" Lex looked neither disgusted nor upset or even confused. Just filled with that same quiet curiosity. "Do you have a clue for me? Or a name? A hint, that's all I need."

Why was it so hard to think? Clark shook his head. "No. No, I don't."

Lex frowned. "Then I'm afraid you'll just have to live with my choices, Clark." He tossed the cue on the table and walked back to his desk. "So while Felicia's here maybe you should stay away from the mansion for a little while. I don't want any discomfort ... for anyone."

It took a minute to digest what Lex said but it suddenly hit Clark that he was going to feel very sick. Not get sick, no, he never actually threw up or anything like that, but this feeling was worse, like a meteor to the gut.

"Right," he choked. "I'm ... I'm sorry. I won't come here anymore."

An impossibly sad expression crossed Lex's face. "I'm doing this for you, Clark. You're young, and you need to learn a little patience. As well as subtlety."

Clark's queasiness turned to anger in two seconds flat. "Thanks a lot. I was just trying to be your friend. To watch out for you."

"While those are very noble motives, this is one area I don't need protection in," Lex said calmly. "So I'm asking you to cool it around my guests. You're better than this, Clark. Please act appropriately when we meet and leave the deliveries off at the door while Felicia is here."

He sounded so ... so ... coldly grown-up, so much like an authority figure rather than a friend, Clark's hackles rose to somewhere around the upper stratosphere.

"Fine. I'll do just that." He could _feel_ his nostrils flaring. "Let them all walk all over you. I couldn't care less. I hope you're very happy and I sincerely hope this one doesn't leave you in the dirt after trying to steal everything you have, like the last three did. You don't need me and that's fine. I don't need you either. I don't come here for my health. I'm just trying to be your friend. But if that's not what you want, then fine."

He was so angry, he could barely see Lex through the haze of rage. "I don't need you," he repeated.

"I think you'd better go," Lex replied gently. "Remember, I'm still your friend, no matter what."

"Whatever," Clark huffed, before turning on his heel and yanking the den doors shut behind him. "Have a nice life."

* * *

When Clark lost his temper, the anger usually faded within a matter of minutes.

But this time the foul mood took up what felt like permanent residence somewhere deep within his chest. Slowly, over a period of two weeks, it turned into a festering hole of resentment, one that threatened to choke him with every breath.

Screw Lex Luthor. Who the hell was he? An ungrateful, sneaky, snotty, tightlipped jerk, that's who he was. Let him have his sluts, a whole castle full of them and Clark wasn't going to shed a single tear when they screwed him, both literally and figuratively.

In fact, he was going to laugh. Yeah, laugh. Long and hard. Let Lex see who was right and who was just a morbid, secretive, stuck-up, dick-for-brains moron.

It was right around this point in Clark's inner monologue the tears started rolling hotly down his cheeks, dripping off his chin in the most infuriating manner possible. He swiped at them ineffectively -- hating them, hating himself.

He snatched up his books and ran to school, not even bothering with the bus. It was just as well since Chloe and Pete shrank away every time they saw him, as did most of his other classmates.

That was fine with him too. Who cared if everyone turned on him, especially some bald jerk who was better off staying in Metropolis and never coming back.

Once in school, Clark delighted in slamming his locker shut. It gave such a satisfying _bang_! and he was about to do it again when an interesting sight materialized in the near distance.

Sarah Jenkins, one of Smallville High's top cheerleaders, was sauntering down the hallway, large red lollipop tucked between bright pink lips. She eyed Clark speculatively as she approached while her girlfriends nudged her in tandem.

When she got to Clark, she stopped. "Hey, there." The candy left her mouth with a pop. "Whattsup?"

"Hey," he said casually. "How's it going Sarah?"

She regarded him closely. Obviously saw something she liked. "Pretty good, Charlie," she said, with a definite come-hither look. "What's going on?"

Clark decided he liked come-hither looks. "It's Clark. And I ... I was wondering, are you busy tonight?" The words came rolling out, just like that, smooth and completely confident. Weird. "I'd like to take you out on a date."

Bright white cheerleader teeth gleamed at him. "Sure, um ... what's your name again?"

"Clark. My name's Clark and I'll pick you up at eight. You still live on Plainview Drive right?" She nodded. He looked at her critically before smiling. "So, yeah. Eight o'clock. And wear something, I dunno, tight. Tight and short."

Normally, Clark figured this sort of sexist command would have gotten him slapped two ways back to Sunday (certainly his mother would have whacked him a good one if she'd heard it) but Sarah didn't seem to mind.

In fact, she seemed flattered. "Tight, huh? I think I have something you might like." She took a lingering suck on her lollipop then bounded off to join her friends. "See you at eight, Chuck."

"Right," Clark said. The raging ache inside his chest calmed, just a little bit. "I'll see you then, baby."

* * *

Clark dressed with more than the usual care that night. Squirmed into his tight black jeans, the ones he normally tossed aside in favor of a looser, more comfortable, pair. He topped those off with a white T-shirt, also form fitting and finished the ensemble off with a belt his father bought him, its solid silver buckle proudly proclaiming him a fan of John Deere products.

Hey, he was a farmer, and what the heck. Anyone who didn't like it could eat his tractor dust.

Clark said to hell with his hair, choosing to ruffle some gel through it and let it dry naturally. It refused to obey him for the past ten years, why would it start now? Besides, it wasn't like he really cared.

Dates who can't remember your name don't deserve hair angst. Case closed.

He tromped down the stairs, sans jacket. The car keys weren't in their usual place and he grumbled as he hunted for them, aware of his mother's all-seeing eyes on his back.

"Are you looking for these?" She tossed the keys at him. "I see you're dressed up. Going somewhere special tonight?"

"Just to the Talon."

"With anyone I know?"

"No. Just some cheerleader from school. Sarah Jenkins."

Martha Kent looked astonished. "_Just_ some cheerleader from school? Why haven't we heard about this sooner?"

"I dunno. It's nothing serious. Just a date."

"Just a date with a cheerleader and you haven't said a word to anyone about it." She gave him her patented "Mom Look of Disbelief." "That's rather odd."

"I said it's nothing serious, just a date. Guys date girls. Lots of girls." The ache flared up again with a vengeance. "Girls, girls, girls. Line 'em up, date 'em all. That's what us manly men do. Now I gotta go."

Blue eyes widened. The "Mom Look of Disbelief" turned into "Martha's Silent Siren of Suspicion." "What's going on, Clark?"

His jaw clenched. "Nothing, Mom. I'm going on a date. And if I don't leave now, I'm going to be late. Thanks for the keys, I'll see you later."

Normally, he didn't dare use his special speed to escape his mother but there was always a first time. He was in the truck and down the driveway before she could throw him a new and even more disconcerting look.

Ten minutes later, he rolled up to the little house on Plainview Drive and beeped the horn. When Sarah emerged from her house, she was wearing a skirt so short as to be little more than a denim loincloth. Her blouse was interesting as well, leaving Clark to wonder if he ever owned a hankie that small.

The answer was probably no.

"Hey, Clarence. Whatssup?" She leaned in the window of Clark's truck, her ever-present red lollipop dangling in a seductive manner. She thrust her chest forward and giggled. "Is this tight enough for you?"

"It's great. Come on, hop in." Clark smiled. She complied, still giggling. "Wanna take a ride?"

"Sure," she laughed and they were off.

He took her on a speed chase through all the back roads. They flew over the dirt at top speeds, racing over all the bumps he could find, his arm slung carelessly over the back of her seat. It was great fun in a squealing, bouncing, break-the-law sort of way and his date was happily flushed and breathless by the time they reached the Talon.

Upon entering, Clark put an arm around her waist, sticking his hand into her skirt pocket, allowing her to return the favor. He flopped into one of the Talon's oversized cushioned chairs and pulled her down with him, right into his lap. He was astonishing himself with his boldness, taken aback at how easy it all was.

Take that Lana. Take that Chloe. Take that Le ...

No, wait. Clark shook his head, then ordered his date a frozen whipped creamy drink of some sort which she ooo'd and aahhh'd over happily. When she licked some scattered cream off his nose, he smiled and ordered her another.

"Fancy seeing you here." The familiar voice made Clark's heart stop. When it started up again it was pounding with fury. That's because it was Lex. "How's it going, Clark?"

"Hey, Lex. Everything's great as you can see." He bounced his knee and Sarah squeaked. "Ooops." He did it again and she laughed.

"And this would be?" Lex smiled sweetly.

"My date," Clark said shortly. "Where's yours?"

"I was asking for her name." He winked at Sarah. "You do have a name, don't you?"

"Hi, I'm Sarah and ... oooh!" Clark bounced her up again, a little higher this time. She hit him with a squeal. "Chuckie here's got a tic, I think."

Lex raised an eyebrow. "Chuckie?"

"So where's Felicia?" Clark snapped, suddenly feeling foolish, angry and annoyed with the giggling girl on his lap. "Did she take off already? That must have set a new world's record."

Lex gazed at him serenely. "I'll talk to you later, Clark," he said quietly. He shook hands with Sarah. "I'm very pleased to meet you. Have a good time tonight."

"Will do!" she replied cheerfully, waving as he left. She poked Clark in the stomach. "So what do you want do tonight, big guy?"

He shrugged, eyes still fixed on Lex's retreating form. "Whatever you want to do," he replied sullenly. "I don't care."

"Whattsa matter?" Confused, she looked from Clark to Lex then back to Clark again. Her jaw dropped. "Wait a minute. You're a weirdo, aren't you?"

Accusing voice, and the Newly Confident World of The Suave One, Clark Kent, imploded with a horrifying crash. Gone was the casual sexist machismo, back was the stammering doof from another planet.

Just in time. "Um ... no. Not at all."

"Jesus Christ." She struggled out of Clark's lap with an angry huff. "Look, I personally don't care what your ... " Here, she made sarcastic little quotation marks with her fingers. " ... alternative lifestyle is, but leave me the hell out of it."

"You've got this all wrong," Clark stuttered. "Seriously ..."

"Oh yeah?" She laughed hoarsely. "Okay, Carl. Plant one on me. Come on, like you mean it." She stuck out lollipop-stained lips. "Throw some tongue in there too. This ought to be good."

"Oh .... I .... well ...." Sweat broke out over his forehead. "I can't ..."

She rolled her eyes derisively. "Go home, Chuck. Or better yet, chase down your boyfriend and make up with him. He seems like a nice guy. I mean, I'm not into the bald thing, but he looks okay." She sighed heavily. "And it's back to the drawing board for me, I guess."

"I'm sorry." And he was. He couldn't remember the last time he was that sorry. "I'm really, really sorry."

"Whatever," she muttered, picking up her handbag. "Have a nice life. "

"Sarah, wait. Please ..."

"Stupid weirdo." And she was gone.

Clark bit back a groan. Wonderful, and while there might have been no love lost this night, part of him realized Sarah was right.

It was time to go chase down his boyfr ... his friend and set the record straight once and for all.

* * *

He'd never seen Lex mad before.

Correction, he'd never seen Lex mad at _him_ before. So it was a bit of a shock when he stalked past Clark without a word, straight to the pool table where he thwacked the balls carelessly, sinking them with long, furious strokes.

"Back from your vacation on Immaturity Island so soon?" He glared at Clark. The look was both brutal and scary. "Or did the natives throw you off?"

Whatever Lex was trying to do, it worked. Clark was immediately humbled.

"Lex ..."

"Clark?" Sarcastically, and Lex tossed the cue down. His eyes still blazed. "Unless I'm going to get some groveling here, I'm not sure I'm interested in what you have to say."

So long, humility. Hello, surliness. "Are you serious? What have I done wrong?"

"Your behavior of the past few weeks has raised some serious issues, Clark. What goes on between us is one thing but when you start exposing other people to your tantrums ... that's where a line has to be drawn."

"Fuck you," Clark sulked. "I don't have tantrums."

"You're having one right now," Lex noted. His expression softened. "And that's okay. Because right now it's just you and me. And I don't care if kick your feet on the floor and hold your breath until you pass out. Go right ahead. I'll still be here when you regain consciousness."

Lex swallowed hard, his throat working in such a painful way as to make Clark feel awful, heart-stopping pangs of guilt.

Oh, nice. A nice and dirty move from his pal, Lex.

Two could play at that game. Clark lowered his eyes, then looked up at Lex from beneath his lashes "Why are you being so mean to me?" he asked in his most hurt voice.

This was the voice that usually turned Lex into a large puddle of melted butter. The voice that got Lex to do pretty much anything Clark wanted; from buying Lana a coffee shop to hauling a professional football team out of their cozy beds to play touchback with Whitney in the middle of an off-season night.

It was THE voice and its power knew no bounds.

Alas, to Clark's horror and amazement, it wasn't working. Not this time.

Lex continued to glower, his arms folded tightly over his chest. He was utterly unyielding. "Why don't you tell me what the real problem is? Don't bother trying to lie or cover it up or refute it. Just come out and admit it. And stop trying to flirt your way out of saying it. I may be in love with you, but I'm not a damned fool, Clark."

He gaped at Lex. "I ... you're ... we're ..."

"Say: 'Lex, stop parading those women in front of me because it makes me insanely jealous and when I'm jealous I act like a four-year-old and I know you don't like when I do that.' Come on, Clark. Just say it."

"Now wait a minute," Clark yelled, grabbing Lex by the arms and holding him there. "I may be jealous, yeah, that's right, but I don't act like a four-year-old. And how do I know what you like? You never tell me anything! You never, not once, gave me a break. Not even a little clue that you wouldn't tell me to get lost if I tried to kiss you. I wanted to kiss you, I still do. Why didn't you tell me?"

Lex smiled kindly. "But Clark, all you had to do was ask."

Clark was going to reply but the kissing made it hard to speak. It was frantic and sloppy, with teeth knocking together, noses getting squashed, tongues not having a clue where to go. Lex seemed as overwhelmed as Clark and that was a good feeling. A wonderful feeling.

They could figure out the logistics later. For now, this was as good as it got. And it was perfect.

"Didn't you know that whatever we are, we'll be forever, Clark?" Lex said, breathlessly. "Did you think I lied to you when I told you our friendship was greater than anything else on this Earth? That you and I are the stuff of legend? That I believe there is _nothing_ \-- no man, woman or anything that will come between us in any meaningful way. Maybe now you're too young to understand."

"I understand," Clark interjected.

"No, you don't. Or you wouldn't be playing these childish games. What I'm trying to say is you have nothing to be jealous of. Your place by my side is guaranteed. For as long as you want it. That includes a place in my bed. If that's where you want to be when the time comes."

A place in his ... oh. The weight in Clark's chest disappeared, replaced by another, sweeter, sort of ache. It lay heavily over where he supposed his alien heart might be then spread over the length of his body, making his toes curl with impatience.

"When the time comes? What about now?"

"No, not now," Lex murmured, covering Clark's throat with tiny kisses. "For now, you're going to date Lana, and Chloe and a whole gaggle of silly girls who can't remember your name. You're going to drink beers and forget where you parked the car. You'll finish high school and go to college where you'll do all sorts of incredibly stupid things in your off-hours while you work for your degree."

Clark made a face. That didn't sound very attractive. "And after that?"

"After that?" Lex smiled. "After that, my friend ... my love ... you and I are going rip this world a brand shining new one." He kissed him, hard. "But until then, you're going to behave yourself."

Clark felt another sulk coming on. "Do I have to?"

"Yes, you do," Lex said. He brushed his lips over Clark's. "Until the day you forget to ask that question." His eyelashes tickled along Clark's cheek. "And until you stop questioning my taste." Another soft kiss. "Because I think it's exquisite."

* * *

fin


End file.
